This Modern World
by Moonlight and Ashes
Summary: There were some things that had changed, of course. There were some things that bewildered him. But there were also some things that were familiar and friendly, and those were the things that made this modern world beautiful to him. One-shots and minifics about Jem and Tessa's lives in the twenty-first century. Will be updated when I have time.
1. Chapter 1 - Shopping in the 21st Century

**Shopping in the Twenty-First Century**

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hello! This is my first story, it is just some cute Jessa fluff; Jem and Tessa go shopping in the new millennium, they meet some of Tessa's warlock friends, and end up getting bullied into buying clothes.**

 **All characters go to rightful owners, namely the amazing Cassandra Clare (except for the two OC characters, those are mine).**

 **I can't say anything else but: enjoy!**

* * *

Tessa breezed into the room, slamming her purse down onto the little table by the door.

"We," she announced, pointing at the man lying sprawled on the couch examining a smartphone, "are going _shopping_."

Jem lifted his eyes from the smartphone and glanced at her. "But we went shopping yesterday!" he protested, pretending to pout.

Tessa laughed, flicking back her hair. "That was grocery shopping, Jem. When I say shopping, I mean _shopping_."

"And of course that clears it up very well. What happened to _cleaning_?" Jem nudged her affectionately with his knee. "You said that cleaning was the first priority yesterday."

Tessa grimaced. She had indeed resolved to clean the house the day before, proclaiming that it was getting overrun by dust bunnies. Maybe she had gotten a little bit sidetracked. "I'll get back to cleaning later. Right now, we're going to shop for clothes."

"But I already have clothes! As you can see."

"You have exactly two sets of clothes and one sweater that you've been wearing over and over during the past week. We need to get you some new clothes, because I am not doing laundry every two days."

"Why, what's wrong with doing laundry every two days?"

" _Because_ ," said Tessa, emphasizing every word, "I despise laundry. It is my lifelong enemy. Which means, you are getting new clothes. That involves you getting off that couch and coming with me." She dragged him to his feet and picked up her purse again.

"Let's go! Enjoy the luxurious shopping malls of the twenty-first century, James."

* * *

Half an hour later, an ancient, beat-up minicar that was painted a horrendous shade of teal (Tessa claimed it was all the rage in the 1990s) screeched to a stop in front of a narrow street.

Jem launched himself out of the car as soon as humanly possible, and stood on the pavement trying to get his breath back. His stomach was still churning from the breakneck ride he had; vaguely he wondered if Tessa was trying to get into a car accident.

"Is something the matter, Jem?" Tessa looked the very picture of innocence, blinking her wide gray eyes from under dark lashes.

Jem glared in mock anger and threw up his hands. "Something is definitely the matter, because I'm afraid there is a demon impersonating my Tessa! The Tessa I used to know was sweet and kind and battled infernal clockwork creatures without batting an eye. Now this Tessa, on the other hand -"

"Is still sweet and kind and battles infernal clockwork creatures with batting an eye." Tessa finished the sentence for him. "Isn't that right?"

"No, this Tessa never cooks for me, refuses to go near a laundry machine, and also drives like a madwoman."

Tessa crossed her arms and huffed in indignation, a strand of thick brown hair flying out from its place on her bun. "I do _not_ drive like a madwoman, and I _do_ cook for you sometimes!"

"You mean you _attempt_ to cook for me. It's not the same thing." Jem couldn't help teasing her; she looked so adorable standing there, with a strand of hair on her nose and a frustrated look in her eyes. "Most days, the microwave cooks for me."

Tessa laughed, pulling him in for a peck on the cheek. "I'll cook for you tonight, then. Deal?" When he smiled back, her eyes lit up; all the weariness he too often saw in them was gone, replaced by a childlike happiness.

His heart expanded to warm his chest, as if trying to fit both of them inside it. Although he felt as if he were endlessly happy during moments like these, he was at the same time weighed down by the darkness of the Silent City that still lingered in the deepest corners of him. And happiness had been stolen from him for so long; how would he know what was true and what was false?

"James," called Tessa softly, putting a hand onto his arm, bringing him back to the present. She hooked an arm around his waist and guided him towards a small shabby storefront. A wooden sign hung on the door, reading _Bellefleur's Beauty and Fashion - Since 1972_ in wide, looping script the color of a blue sky.

Upon entering, Jem caught a small glimpse of a spacious interior, dimly lit and filled with what looked like racks of clothing. It was not what he had expected a twenty-first century shopping mall to look like. That was all he could take in before a tiny woman with electric blue hair ran towards them rather frantically.

"Theresa Adele Gray!" she scolded, so loud that the tinkling of the shopkeeper's bell was almost completely drowned out. Curls of blue hair tumbled down from her carefully arranged upsweep. "You promised to stop by and shop about one and a half years ago, why haven't I seen you until now?"

Next to Jem, Tessa winced at her loud, grating voice instinctively. "Nice to see you again, too, Kal. Kindly skip the dramatics, will you? I've got a guest here."

The woman, or rather, the warlock, called Kal narrowed her eyes as she looked as Jem. They were a similar shade of electric blue to her hair, and fringed with cyan eyelashes.

"A Nephilim boy," she mused, her gaze raking over Jem; the scars on his cheeks, the streak of silver in his hair. "Interesting. And what relation is he to you?"

Tessa flushed, but held Kal's piercing stare firmly. "He's my boyfriend. Is that what you call it nowadays?"

The other woman gaped at Tessa, clearly at a loss for words. "You- you- what?" Her eyes grew so wide that they could have been saucers. "I heard from Magnus a few days ago, but Scarlette and I thought he was rambling."

"Magnus _what_? He was rambling about what?"

Kal, who had somewhat recovered from her shock, smirked slightly, clearly pleased to be in control again. "Magnus Bane came into a Downworld pub a few days ago, drunk himself silly, and yelled to half of Downworld that Tessa Gray was striking it up with some Nephilim. Vampires are gossiping, warlocks are gossiping, werewolves are being berated by Lucian Graymark for listening to gossip, and faeries couldn't care less. Per usual."

Jem felt the crimson creeping up his throat to his face. He hadn't expected news of their relationship to travel so quickly, and it made him feel awkward. As if she sensed his discomfort, Tessa reached for his hand behind their backs and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Excuse Kalina, she's much too dramatic and loves gossip. I hope her sister can insert some sanity into proceedings," said Tessa in a whisper that could be clearly heard. "Where's Scarlette, Kal?"

"She eez here," announced a different voice, with a rich French accent. Another warlock, this time with long black hair falling in a thick unbroken sheet to her hair and the tips of cat ears peeking over the top of her head, came down the stairs. She stopped next to Kalina and inclined her head at Tessa. "Theresa. Eet's been a while, hasn't eet?"

Before Tessa could say anything, all the lights in the already dimly lit shop flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness illuminated by a few weak rays of January sunlight that came in through the windows.

"Kaleena!" scolded Scarlette. "I have told you to check on zhe electreec lights last week! You should have changed zhem!"

"I did!" screeched Kalina indignantly. "It's not my fault this stupid modern electricity is so unreliable." She flicked a hand in the general direction of the far wall and a few decorative sconces there burst into light, filling the room with a blaze of warlock flames.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Tessa threw out an arm, and the entire space began to glow with a bright yellow light, as if the walls themselves were emitting afternoon sunshine.

"Well, excuse me! Not all of us have been around for the better part of a hundred years!" Kalina was obviously bitter at being ousted.

Scarlette shushed her impatiently, then noticed Jem for the first time as she glanced up at the dead electric lights above. "Why, who eez zhees?" she asked, her arched eyebrows shooting up. Jem drew back a little under her gaze.

"He's Tessa's boyfriend!" jumped in Kalina, perking up noticeably. "Our Theresa's finally got her head around the concept of dating."

Scarlette, unlike Kalina, did not look shocked at all; in fact, she looked vaguely amused. "Well, zhees eez a surprise. I do not beleeve we have been introduced." She pulled off one of her stylish black gloves and extended a hand. "Scarlette Bellefleur, and zhees eez my younger tween seester, Kaleena."

"James Carstairs," said Jem, shaking her outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you." He could see the sisters clearly for the first time; Kalina had carefully curled blue hair, shocking blue eyes and seemed full of energy, bouncing up and down on her leather boots; Scarlette was much calmer by contrast, and wore all black, from the elegantly fitted dress she had on, to the wing-tipped mascara around her dark eyes.

"The Bellefleur sisters have had a store here since the 1970s," said Tessa. "It's the best place for Downworlders to do their shopping."

"We have also have one een Parees, wheech is much grander by compareeson," added Scarlette. "So, Theresa. Have you come to buy?"

Tessa nodded. "Jem needs new clothes, and I might buy some new tops as well."

"Let's see what we can do. The men's section is over here somewhere. I'll give him a tour on the way." Kalina grabbed Jem by the arm and pulled him along. Wondering what sort of things these warlocks, clearly older than they looked, sold in a twenty-first century shop, he let himself be dragged along.

* * *

Kalina and Scarlette Bellefleur, although they looked seventeen at the most in appearance, were in fact around fifty-four years of age, and had had more experience than most eighty year olds had. But despite that, they seemed to take an almost childish delight in scandalizing Jem with modern clothes. Tessa hung behind watching as Kalina gave Jem a tour of the shop. She was currently explaining, very cheerfully, about women's bathing suits that were nothing more than two strips of cloth held together by strings, apparently newly imported from Paris at great expense.

"I'm sure Tessa could explain more about these, I know she's been to Paris a dozen times." chirped Kalina, neatly steering Jem around the bathing suits section. "Scarlette! Ask Tessa to try on a miniskirt! The black and silver bead will fit her beautifully, won't it?"

Scarlette looked up from where she was organizing the storeroom and winked conspiratorially. Before Tessa could utter a protest, she found herself in the claw-like grasp of the elder Bellefleur sister.

"Theresa, darling," she purred. "We have a new skirt zhat weel be _absolutely_ tres chic on you. Come along!"

"What in the world are you doing to Jem?" hissed Tessa as she was propelled rapidly towards to the changing room.

Scarlette merely laughed, a silvery tinkling sound. "We are seemply eentroduceeing James to the customs of zhe twenty-first century."

"He just came from Victorian London!"

"Well, he seems to be enjoying heemself very much." said Scarlette, nodding at Jem and the top of Kalina's head (that was all that was visible from behind the clothes rack they were next to) across the store.

Tessa wasn't sure what Scarlette meant by "enjoying himself", but she did not think the expression on Jem's face was in any way akin to the word "enjoyment". It seemed a great deal more like shock.

Scarlette tossed a package wrapped in clear plastic at Tessa, who unfolded it and stared at the skirt. It was made of thick, dark fabric and covered with bumpy rows of black and silver and gray beads. It was also very, very short.

"Scarlette? I think you've given me the wrong size." Tessa held the skirt to her body; the waistline was impossibly small, and it only came up to mid-thigh at the most. It was much shorter than what she was comfortable with.

The warlock looked at it and shook her head. "No, no, eet weel feet fine. Zhat is how eet eez supposed to look." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Get changed, qeeck!"

Tessa squeezed herself into the tiny changing room and then pulled on the even tinier miniskirt, sucking in her breath and holding it in as if she were putting on a corset. It did fit, after all, but left so much of her legs exposed that Tessa felt underdressed. Not to mention that the long t-shirt she was wearing covered up almost the entire miniskirt so that it looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath.

The minute Tessa stepped out of the dressing room, Scarlette gave a piercing shriek. "Does zhees girl know nothing of fashion? You have to tuck een zhat shirt, no, no, put eet _eento_ zhe skirt, you seemply cannot have eet hanging zhere!" She insisted on piling herself into the changing room with Tessa to fix the skirt and arrange her hair.

By the time she was finished, Tessa was shifting uncomfortably in toe-pinching Mary Jane flats and trying not to ruin the elaborate braid draped over one shoulder, regretting that she had ever mentioned shopping. The top she had let Scarlette bully her into wearing was flimsy, and the air conditioning chilled her.

Ignoring Tessa's protests - "But I can barely walk in these shoes, and Jem's already busy with Kal!" - Scarlette pushed her to where Kalina was deliberately walking Jem past several mannequins that wore very little.

* * *

This was definitely the strangest shopping trip Jem had ever been on. Not that he had been on many before; but the two warlocks who knew Tessa's middle name and affectionately called her Theresa seemed very keen on trying to shock his old-fashioned Victorian sensibilities, by uncovering and discussing the more scandalous aspects of the century openly.

Blue-haired Kalina was extremely cheerful, and kept a sunny smile on her face, although that didn't fool him; after stuffing a large selection of black and white men's clothes that she claimed would look amazing on him in a plastic shopping bag, she began purposefully leading him into the most improper sections, chattering on nonchalantly and conversationally dropping hints about how Tessa might look in them. It seemed that the main reason she was doing this was not to show him clothes, but to horrify him.

Jem tried to subtly avert his eyes as Kalina led him past a row of female mannequins wearing the two-piece bathing suits called bikinis. Kal noticed almost immediately, and smirked. "I _do_ wish we had some from Marina Swimwear to show you, they make the most fabulous one-pieces. Perhaps Theresa can show you. She has two at home." she informed him without a trace of embarrassment.

This woman definitely knew how to make him uncomfortable. He was thankfully saved from answering by the appearance of the other sister with Tessa. Although perhaps seeing Tessa in such clothes made him more uncomfortable.

She was wearing a beaded skirt that clung to her legs and an unbalanced cream-colored top that would look lopsided and ridiculous on anyone but her. The sheer amount of skin that was showing made Jem's inbred rules of propriety cringe, but at the same time he had to admit he liked it, the way that it made Tessa's eyes a darker shade of gray, the way that it emphasized her height and yet made the most of her slender frame.

Kalina squealed. "Tessa suits this outfit so-o well, don't you think?" She grabbed Tessa and spun her around like a model.

"Oh, eet's nothing," said Scarlette, preening, pleased at the compliment. "Clothes can work wonders. Theresa, you absolutely must buy zhees skirt. You are _much_ too pretty for zhose old jeans you wear."

Jem had to agree with that. While they were at the register paying for the clothes, he smoothed back a curl that was escaping from her braid and whispered, " _Ni hen piao liang,"_ Her cheeks remained crimson for a long while after that.

* * *

The tiny teal-colored car zoomed off into the bustling traffic of downtown New York, recklessly swerving around larger cars and performing an illegal U-turn despite the angry honks it provoked. The large shopping bags inside slid around in a crazed dance.

Tessa glanced at Jem carefully. He had been laughing when they had come out of the Bellefleurs' shop, but he hadn't said anything else since then. There was a distant look in his eyes, the one that still appeared sometimes, reminding Tessa that Jem was no longer the same boy she had loved a century ago, that the years had changed him just as they had changed her.

"How was shopping, then?" asked Tessa, opting for a lighthearted tone. "Is it one of the twenty-first century's greatest pastimes, as so many mundanes claim?"

"Maybe not the greatest." said Jem. When she glanced at him again, the Silent Brother mask had fallen away and his face was open and honest and just slightly vulnerable. "Your warlock friends…" One side of his mouth quirked up. "They seem very…"

"Scandalous? Indecent? Offensive to delicate Victorian sensibilities?" suggested Tessa.

Jem laughed. "Well, maybe those, too, but I was going to say modern."

Tessa considered the thought. Compared to her, they were much more outgoing, paid more attention to mundane fads, and used the latest technology that she didn't want to use; they were indeed what you could call modern. Perhaps for them, being so young by warlock standards, time still flowed.

Jem put his hand on top of hers on the steering wheel, as if he could tell what she was thinking. "Will would have loved them. Adored them like children." he said softly.

"Yes, he would've," Tessa smiled at the faded, happy memories that idea brought up.

For the rest of the ride, they didn't say anything more. They didn't need to.

* * *

That night, Tessa tried to cook pasta for both of them. But even she couldn't pretend that everything went well; the sauce burnt and spilled down her new shirt, and the noodles were limp and overcooked.

As they frantically tried to salvage something edible from the smoking saucepan, Jem felt something he hadn't felt in a long time - happiness. Here in the small kitchen surrounded by laughter and standing so close to Tessa that their hands bumped into each other's as they worked, Jem could admit to himself that it was real. Real, pure happiness.

In that moment, he didn't want anything more from this modern world.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **A round of applause for you if you read all that without getting bored! I know some of the middle bits are a little weird, and maybe some of Scarlette's French accent dialogue is wrong (I know little to no French, and I very quickly learned how to write a French accent online) so feel free to correct me in reviews.**

 **Cheers,**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


	2. Chapter 2 - Reminiscence

**Reminiscence**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 ** _SilverJem5:_ Woohoo! My first review(er)! Thank you for your thoughtful review, I enjoyed reading it so much, and I'm glad you liked my story :) I had loads of fun making Kal and Scarlette, playing around with their personalities and making them the absolute opposite of Tessa, who is always rather conservative. **

_**thedarkwhiteangel:**_ **Haha, Jessa is the best, isn't it? *squeals* Not that I don't love Wessa and Jillessa too, but Jessa will always have its own special place in my heart.**

 **Jem and Tessa unfortunately belong to Cassandra Clare and not me, but I do own the plot.**

* * *

Sundays with Tessa were always lazy. Warlocks didn't seem to believe in waking up early, which was absolutely fine with Jem. This meant that they would stay in bed yawning until it was close to noon. Tessa would then attempt to cook pancakes for brunch, which never exactly went well; often they had to eat them drenched in syrup and slathered with too much butter and brown sugar. They lay sprawled out onto the couch with classical music on the record player before Tessa exclaimed over the state of the house and halfheartedly launched into a routine she called Sunday housekeeping. This involved turning on the laundry machine for once and running the vacuum cleaner, with Church yowling for food, occasionally attacking the machine just in case the point wasn't clear to his rather oblivious warlock owner. Jem was usually the one who fed the cat and gave him a lavish amount of attention while Tessa pouted with mock jealousy.

This Sunday was no different, meaning no less inactive: Jem spilled pancake mix all over the kitchen floor then spread it more by trying to mop it up with a wet cloth. They went through the entire works of Mendelssohn. Tessa gave up on housekeeping before she even started. And of course, Church sauntered in for his daily share of canned treats and balls of yarn.

It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and Tessa was curled up on one end of the couch reading Edgar Allan Poe's _Annabel Lee_ , occasionally quoting passages she liked.

"Listen to this," she said. "'But we loved with a love and that was more than love— / I and my Annabel Lee— / With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven / Coveted her and me' Isn't that a beautiful verse?"

Jem looked at the page she was reading from and scanned the poem. "It's rather depressing. Why can't poets give their subjects a happy ending for once?"

Tessa smacked him lightly on the arm. "It's not depressing! It's a beautiful poem that explores the theme of love challenged by death."

The faintest trace of a smile ghosted over Jem's face. "Over the divide of death," he murmured, remembering a phrase he had heard once before.

Tessa looked startled, her eyes widening a fraction. "Will?" she asked, hesitantly.

But really, there was no need to say it. They were both thinking the same thing now; a thought that went with them everywhere, no matter what.

Jem's mind flashed back to a time in London where fog covered the glow of gaslamps and carriages bumped across cobbled streets. Where a boy with blue, blue eyes and a girl with a lovely pale face appeared in his life.

Then all of a sudden, memories were pushed to the front of his mind, the same memories he had repressed and locked away for more than a century. Some were of happy, laughing times with Will and Tessa. Some contained bittersweet partings, of engagements and _parabatai_ and families. And in some he could feel the weariness of time.

Fondly, he could see the London Institute, its curving stairwells and grand tapestries hanging from dimly lit hallways. The music room where he had played for Tessa. The dining room where they had pored over papers, searching for traces of Mortmain. Will's room, at the top of the staircase, where so many tears had been shed, unseen and unknown by the other residents of the Institute. And of course, the library.

Of all the rooms in the Institute Jem associated with these memories, the library was the most. Although he had never understood words as he understood his notes, books had never been far from his heart. If he closed his eyes and let himself dream for a moment, he could hear the soft scratching of quills as he and Will, as children, took notes of Downworlder politics, could see Tessa bent over a book with her thick hair parted into waves, could feel the warmth of the crackling fire.

He remembered that once, Will had spilled an entire pot of ink on the table nearest the bookshelves, where they had done most of their studying. He claimed it was an accident, although Jem had his doubts. Either way, Charlotte had not been pleased; it took a very long time to scrub the ink out, and even then, a faint bluish stain could be seen stretching across the table. He idly wondered if it was still there. Perhaps it was. He liked the idea of leaving a tangible mark for the future inhabitants to see. For someone like Tessa, who could go back and back again. For someone like Emma or Jace, who were just learning of their families' roles in the past.

He flipped back through the memories as if he was flipping through a scrapbook, treasuring each and every faded photo, each and every faded moment. When he looked at Tessa again, barefooted, with hair piled up into a messy bun, her mouth twitching as she read her book, he saw not only the girl from a hundred years past, but the woman she had grown into.

Some things about her had changed as the world did around them, and of course he loved these new aspects over her—but in the end, perhaps what he loved the most about this new Tessa was that she wasn't new. She wasn't a stranger, someone he was cautiously learning to navigate. She was achingly familiar and the only reminder in his life of a bygone age he wasn't quite ready to let go.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **So... here's the update you've all been waiting for! (Hopefully. I don't know how many people have actually spared a thought about this update.) I'm sorry it's so short compared to the other one, and I know it's a little bit dull, just reading about Jem's memories the entire time. I just wanted to write something on a more serious note that sort of links back to Jem and Tessa's relationship in the last chapter.**

 **Again, I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed, and I'm sorry if it sucked. I'm open to any requests through reviews or PMs, if you want anything in particular.**

 **Hugs, kisses and cookies,**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


	3. Chapter 3 - A Hazard to the Kitchen

**A Hazard to the Kitchen**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 _ **SilverJem5:**_ **Thanks! I like to incorporate bits of seriousness even in fluff, that's sort of my writing style. I'm glad you liked my Jem's POV of things; I think most of the chapters will be from Jem's perspective. He's very interesting to write about. Hehe, I know right! Church is the most adorable cat ever! Hope you like his role in this one! ;)**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Haha, yay indeed!**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Thank you so much for your review! This site definitely lacks Jessa stories, that's why I'm writing one :) I'm happy you liked it and here's the new chapter!**

 _ **XiuBaozi:**_ **Hehehehe, I finally made you ship Jessa! Hopefully this will make you ship it even more!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: The Infernal Devices characters are part of the vast majority of things on this planet that don't belong to me. Too bad, because Jem and Tessa really deserve their happy ending. I'll just have to stick to FFN now.**

* * *

Jem entered the house to the smell of burning. Dropping his keys onto the table by the door, he walked to the kitchen to investigate, but was intercepted by… Church? The cat was meowing indignantly and entirely white from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. His eyes glared out at Jem from the doorway.

Frowning, Jem reached out to pet him, wondering if Tessa had made good on her constant threats to dye Church a different color, and if so, what the poor animal had done to warrant it. A bit of the white came off on his hand, and Jem realized that it was flour.

Which meant that Tessa was cooking. Tessa rarely cooked, preferring to heat up frozen dinners instead, but when she did, it is almost always a disaster. Add the smell of burning to that, and the chances of the house going up in flames that night soared.

Depositing Church into the hallway closet where he wouldn't track flour everywhere and spoil the furniture with a promise to take him out later, Jem peered into the kitchen. "Tessa?"

Tessa's head popped up from behind one of the cabinet doors. Her hair was falling out of its sagging ponytail in clumps, and her face had a smudge of flour on it. She smiled and waved at him, which he took as a sign to come in.

Jem stepped carefully into the kitchen, trying to avoid the random patches of flour everywhere. "Are you cooking?" he asked. It was an unnecessary question—of course she was cooking. There were ingredients strewn everywhere; a sack of some white powder that could have been sugar or salt or one of Tessa's warlock powders, a carton of eggs, a milk jug that was upended on its side (hopefully empty, otherwise there would be _wet_ flour to deal with) and of course, the flour, which had somehow gotten all over the kitchen. The noticeable smell of burning was due to something that was on the counter, steaming as if it had just come out of the oven. It looked an alarming shade of black and Jem hoped that was not the final creation.

Tessa grinned. "Isabelle Lightwood from the Institute gave me a recipe for pound cake. I thought I'd try it out." She sneezed, which only served to send more powdery flour everywhere.

Jem choked back his alarm; he had been hastily escorted out by the aforementioned Lightwood's brothers every time she had invited him to stay for dinner, explaining in hissed whispers about how atrocious Isabelle's cooking was.

Oblivious to his discomfort, Tessa went back to fiddling with the twine wrapped around the carton of eggs. "Can you hand me the recipe, Jem?"

"What happened to the microwave?" Jem eyed the machine in question instead of answering. It looked fine, except for the fact that it was squashed in the corner of the kitchen, but perhaps something had accidentally melted inside and clogged up the… well, something. That had happened last month, and he hadn't really understood anything, only that it could be fixed with a complicated cleaning spell.

"The microwave? It was getting in the way, so I put it there." Tessa gestured vaguely with one hand; she looked distracted, and Jem couldn't blame her. A tiny silver pot with raised designs of arrows and hearts had begun to shriek—not just shriek the way mundane kettles did, but in a shrill, high-pitched voice that sounded rather human. She waved her other hand at the pot, and blue light from her palm ensnared it, silencing it.

Momentarily distracted, Jem looked at it. It was perfectly ordinary looking, but no doubt had a warlock charm cast on it. "Where did that come from?"

"I got it at a Downworlder market sale. It's a stupid nuisance. It's supposed to shriek when something burns, but it actually shrieks all the time, whenever it feels like it. The spell's probably defective."

"Right," said Jem. He wondered if it shrieked at random intervals because there actually _was_ something burning inside. "Is the microwave fixable?"

Tessa gave him a strange look. "I can put it back after I finish this pound cake. But I thought you would like it better like that. You always said it took up too much space."

"No, I mean, what's wrong with it? Can it be fixed, as in right now?" Surely Tessa would be throwing in instant brownies mixes by now if she could have fixed it. Not laboring at baking pound cake, which was sure to turn out blackened and burnt and undeniably inedible.

"There's nothing wrong with the microwave."

"Then what's the pound cake and… well, whatever else you're baking for? Should I run out and get a cookie mix again?"

"What, so now I can't bake if I don't use a microwave? You can't bake pound cake in the microwave anyway."

Jem colored. "Well, it depends…"

"Are you saying that I'm horrible at cooking, then, James?" Tessa crossed her arms over her flour-covered apron.

"I think you should look at the kitchen," Jem said evasively. "Isn't it easier to get pound cake from the bakery if that's what you want?"

Tessa threw her arms in the air. "It's Sunday, the only bakery that's open is that stupid one called Coffee Break Cakes which is terribly expensive and makes awful pound cakes besides. If I have to choke through another one of those I'll sue the manager. And how dare you suggest my cooking is awful!"

"I, um," Jem began awkwardly, sincerely hoping that she was joking. "Well."

Tessa grinned. "It won't be awful this time. I don't think it's possible to mess up pound cake. The recipe is pretty simple."

Jem looked pointedly at the kitchen. "You said it wasn't possible to mess up a boiled egg, either."

She had the grace to look embarrassed. "What happened in the microwave _stays_ in the microwave. Don't bring it up."

Jem rolled his eyes. "What happened in the microwave" was an incident where Tessa had put a cold boiled egg, still in its shell, into the microwave. She had reassured his doubts about the unorthodox method, and they had both gone to another room; neither of them had expected it to explode in the microwave about half a minute after it was put in with a loud _pop_ that sent Church barreling under the bed. "I don't suppose you would let me drive to a decent bakery that sells decent pound cake. Because that seems to be the cleanest solution here."

"Okay, okay, compromise," Tessa held up her floury hands. "How about you read the recipe for me? And make sure I don't do anything wrong. And, um, do a couple of other things… That involve cleaning the kitchen."

He opened his mouth, ready to protest for the sake of the kitchen, the cat, the neighbors, themselves, and everything in a two mile radius, but when Tessa looked up at him with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes, shining with mischief and hope and love, he couldn't refuse her.

After all, there was no one to tell them not to. There was no one to scold him, to tell him to return to his schedule, to look on disapprovingly on those occasions he let too much feeling slip through his wall.

This was what freedom tasted like.

* * *

Of course, freedom had its disadvantages. There was no one to tell them that sugar was slightly different from salt, for instance. In hindsight, Jem realized that they should have known that the differences between the two ingredients, but unfortunately he had been rather distracted by the howling silver pot. It turned out that something _was_ burning in there, and that the something was the butter. It was supposed have been lightly melted for only a minute so that it would be ready for beating, but Tessa had accidentally forgotten about it.

So amidst the chaos of the burnt butter, Tessa had grabbed the nearest bag of white powder and only glanced at the label quickly before pouring quite a lot of it directly into the pot, despite Jem's protests.

"But, Tessa, it's burnt," he objected. "I don't think the recipe calls for it to be burnt, it said melt it a little."

"We'll add extra sugar. No one will notice it." That was Tessa's answer to everything—add extra sugar to cover it. Which might have worked if the sugar were actually sugar, and not refined sea salt.

Alas, neither of them noticed that. The thick mixture of burnt butter, salt and flour was transferred into a non-stick baking pan and stuck into the oven without further scrutiny.

* * *

Jem stood in the messy kitchen and looked at the three slabs of pound cake in front of him. One of them was burnt to a black crisp, the results of Tessa's first failed experiment. The other two looked slightly better, meaning that they were a shade of brown instead of black. The third one had turned out too crumbly and was falling apart miserably.

Tessa let out a nervous laugh. "So," she said, bouncing up and down on her heels. "Shall we taste?"

"Not the first one." Jem was adamant on that point. "Maybe the second one will actually taste like pound cake."

"It's not my fault the first one slipped and fell in the oven! And I don't know what happened to the third one either." Tessa produced two forks and gave one to Jem, winking as she did it.

Dubiously, he stuck the fork into the second cake; it came out clean, which was probably a good sign. Maybe this one would be a success after all. Then he took a bite and realized just how wrong he was.

The three and a quarter cups of salt, which they had previously thought was sugar, immediately exploded over his taste buds. It was _definitely_ not sugar.

Gagging, Jem gulped at the glass of water on the kitchen table until his mouth returned to somewhat normal.

Tessa was looking at him, concerned. "What was in that cake?" she asked lightly, attempting a smile, but he could tell she was genuinely worried.

Jem swallowed more water. "I think we might have overdosed the salt." he said. "That thing you called sugar… Was it actually sugar?"

Her eyebrows shot up so high that Jem thought they might disappear, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, God. I thought it was sugar… It was obviously not sugar…"

Then she burst into a fit of giggles, which Jem thought was completely unnecessary considering his situation.

"Oh, God," she gasped, bending over, still laughing. "It was salt! We put three cups of salt in the pound cake… No wonder you looked like that after you tasted! I don't believe it…"

Jem grimaced. "I do believe it was your fault. I only read out the recipe. You did the actual baking. And to think that you said it was simple."

"Well, I _thought_ it was simple." Tessa grinned, looking at the cakes with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "And yes, it was my fault, and yes, I am a terrible cook. Is that better?"

"Yes, much better," Jem said, his face twitching, trying to repress a smile. "But you had better promise me… No more pound cakes. Or any sort of baking that involves sugar and ovens. Or I might have to stay at the Institute from now on."

Tessa caught at him and pulled him down for a kiss. "You'll stay here with me whether I do bake or not." she murmured against his lips. Her hair still smelled of lavender.

And Jem did smile, because it was true, he would stay with her, go with her, anywhere and everywhere, as he had said on that day on the bridge.

But as if right on cue, there was a furious mewling from the hallway. It was Church, who Jem had shut into the closet and forgotten to let out, demanding to be acknowledged.

* * *

 **A/N: Review! Pleeeease... :) *insert heart here* Reviews are cookies. I love cookies. Ahhhh! *opens mouth* You can put them in my mouth, aka the little box below.**

 **Also, for all you Wessa fans, check out my new story Chain of Gold! I would really appreciate it if you left a review there, too. **

**Thanks, and love you all!**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


	4. Chapter 4 - Fairytale

**Fairytale**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 _ **Bubblegum234:**_ **Thanks! :) I would say I'm sorry for all the feels, but I'm not, because I can never be sorry for writing fangirl-y feels. :)**

 _ **XiuBaozi:**_ **Yay! You reviewed** **Chain of Gold! Thanks for the cookies (yummy!) and I hope you like the new update. **

* * *

**A/N: Hello everyone! Moonlight and Ashes here, finally updating after two weeks of procrastination. Sorry to those of you who have been waiting for more 2008 Jessa: This isn't a usual update, it's more of a bonus chapter. You'll see what I mean when you read it. It's a Victorian era AU that I made up while listening to a song. It's loosely based on the song's music video. I'll let you know what it is in the next chapter; in the meantime, you can make your own guesses. :) Happy reading!**

* * *

In the blazing heat of summer they courted. In carriages and along the river and by the park. Drunk with love and dizzy with happiness in knowing that they were always, like in a fairytale story where nothing could go wrong.

Under the flames of the setting sun they kissed. Kisses that tasted of sunlight and wind and flowers and love.

Behind closed doors and stone walls and iron gates they whispered. Whispers of love and forever and marriage.

Bathed in the golden light of summer's passing they believed. Believed, foolishly, that they were forever and always young in their love but of course that was not so, because the world was not a fairytale no matter whatever they had thought.

But of course all too soon summer was dead and gone and harsh winds blew and everyone seemed to be so determined to keep them apart even though they were engaged now.

Leaves turned dry and brittle and fell but unlike them their love held fast. Held fast because there was no other way to be, no other way to live if not with each other.

What had once been beautiful in summer was now ugly and withered in winter because he was sick and fading, fading fast and there was nothing to stop the darkness from coming.

Even the loveliness of her gold wedding gown and the embroidered marriage runes on his gear were marred by battle and loss and now it looked as if they would be wed in a slaughterhouse.

The nights were long and dark and the days had turned gray. There was no time to love and the world was a wretched place and they were running out of time and nothing was fair anymore.

Even the moon was gone the night he left, hidden by clouds as if it too was in mourning. She didn't know he was gone until she had taken his hand and it was cold, too cold, like the distant shining of the stars that looked on silently, indifferent to the fate of the dying boy and the sobbing girl.

And then it was not _them_ anymore, but only _she_ , because he was gone, irreparably, permanently gone, not gone as in he had gone to his room to rest or gone as in he had gone demon-hunting but gone as in he was dead and never coming back.

And then when she could admit to herself that it was true, that he was dead, she cried and screamed and clawed at herself until she ran out of tears, of screams, of skin to tear at even though it did nothing to lessen her pain because with every sob, every scream, every scratch, the words _dead and gone_ reverberated in her mind like the final echo of a bell.

She remembered what she had said once, _A time when you are well and everything is perfect,_ and now she realized that there was no such thing as perfect, not then and not now and not ever again. The world was not a perfect place, it was flawed and imperfect in every way possible and still the stars looked on coldly as if it were their job to do so.

If the their story were a fairytale, there would be no happily ever after, nothing to await them except death and sorrow and tears. The prince would never come and there would be no angel to rescue them from the pain.

The crowd at the funeral was a sea of white, whispering their condolences that were false, false, false, because no one knew him, could know him, as she did and although she replied politely and spoke when necessary, she was breaking inside.

She was breaking inside. Not quite broken yet, but never to be healed.

The music room that was always full of sweet strains of music when he lived was now silent and collecting dust and when she tried to open the violin case the hinges creaked in a way that would have sent him wincing if he were there and one of the strings had snapped and that was what finally broke her. All the cracks spilling across her heart tore apart at once until the edges were sharp and jagged.

The library was where she spent most of her days hidden and crouched in a corner surrounded by thousands of books, thousands of other lives that she could escape into and pretend were hers. The embossed gold cover of the one fairytale book they had was chipped and cracked from where she had thrown it at the walls, stained with the tears of sleepless nights.

She knew that fairytales were a lie, a sweet comfort to children who cry in the night. Happily ever after was not something that existed in her world.

She had written out their own ending with such care, but now it was meaningless, the life of some other girl and some other boy in a universe where the stars cared and everything went well.

So that was why, when the clockwork creatures came for her, she didn't try to resist or cry for help and instead let herself be tied up and dragged away from the only place on the planet that she could call home. Because he was dead and she would soon be and there was no reason to live anymore in a world that was cold and gray without his silver eyes.

 _When you think of me, think of me in happiness._

* * *

 **A/N: Again, I'm sorry if you were disappointed by this update, I know none of you were expecting this. I was stuck on the real chapter 4, so it got bumped to chapter 5, and I decided to write this instead. Please review, follow, fav! Feel free to put your guesses of the song in reviews. :)**

 **Love to everyone who has read the story, reviewed it, faved it, or followed it!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


	5. Chapter 5 - Something So Beautiful

**Something So Beautiful**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Nope, sorry, you're not first reviewer for this story. You're the first one to review this chapter, if that helps! :) The honor of first reviewer goes to** **SilverJem5** **^^ Haha, thanks! I'm surprised you didn't cry over** **Chain of Gold** **then. By the way, I know that's you, XiuBaozi! ;) Thanks for reviewing all of my chapters. And for the cookies. And for letting me bully you into reading TID.**

 _ **manyscarletskies:**_ **Oh. My. God. Can I just say you are a freaking amazing person?! You do not know how happy you made me with your reviews, all four of them at the same time in my inbox! Thank you so, so, so much! :) They were cute, they were funny, and they were considerate and encouraging, too. I hope I didn't ruin your feels** _ **too**_ **much with the last chapter… Because this one's sort of angsty too… *runs away* Don't kill me! Ooh, yeah, I always had this headcanon about Shadowhunter women being horrible cooks; Tessa, Isabelle and Emma. That chapter just proved it right. :) But why do I have an ominous feeling that Jem is also bad at cooking?**

 _ **kirstieworm1999:**_ **Wow, thanks for the kind review, and for the suggestion as well! I was thrilled to have someone suggest something for me. I promise that the next chapter will be about or at least include them visiting the London Institute, what a great idea! Hope you like this update. :)**

 _ **mezzogal:**_ **Wow, wow, wow! You people are awesome! Three reviews in one day… I am having an awesome day! Thank you for all of them! I really love writing adorable Jem, he's just sooooo cute! :) Jem had really better learn how to housekeep, because if Tessa had her way, there would be dirty dishes piled up everywhere. Poor Jem…**

* * *

 **A/N: All right, the last chapter was based on Tong Hua by Michael Wong. Not that any of you actually seemed to care… :( Haha, just kidding. (Maybe) Anyway, if you haven't watched the music video, I strongly suggest you do. It literally screams Jessa so much! The last line from the chapter is is also from the music video. That was honestly not my best chapter (I might edit it more later), hope this one is better!**

* * *

When Tessa awoke, it was early morning and faint grayish light seeped in under the heavy drapes they had put over the bedroom windows.

It took a few seconds for her to realize that the world was entirely silent. The usual early morning sounds of downtown New York were gone, replaced by a silence so complete, so profound, that it was almost eerie.

Tessa rolled over with every intention of getting out of bed and looking out the window. She would have, if she hadn't knocked herself right into something warm and soft beneath the blankets.

Jem blinked up at her, sleepy-eyed with a contented smile curling up around the edges of his face. "Time?" he asked, yawning, swiping for the clock by the bedside and missing badly. "If it's not past nine I'm not getting up." He yawned again.

Tessa smiled and dropped her head onto his shoulder, any thought of getting out of the tiny world of warmth they had created for themselves gone. "Around eight in the morning, I think."

There was a pause interrupted only by the sound of gentle breathing. "It's quiet for eight on a weekend." Jem said, looking around. He blinked, once, twice. "I don't recall these drapes being soundproof."

She yawned and curled closer. "Don't make me get up. It's too early to wake up."

Jem laughed, agreeing, but pushed down the blankets anyway, rolling over and out of the bed. Tessa made a soft noise of protest, stopped by the rattle of the curtains being drawn back and the pale, watery light filtering in through the clear glass.

White flakes were twirling gently outside the window, framed against the harsh bleakness of the winter landscape. The bustle of pedestrians and sounds of traffic were muffled, buried underneath a blanket of pure white snow.

Falling and falling from a sky that was the color of her eyes.

* * *

Snow was never far from Tessa's heart. She knew that New York winters were cold and harsh and full of blizzards. That was precisely why she always traveled south during the colder months. Just a quick visit to Blackfriars in December, and then a portal to Australia, or Italy, or South America. Anywhere, just as long as it was warm and exotic and nothing like London.

Snow held too many memories, too much pain, too much happiness, just too much, until she could not bear it anymore, and had pushed it deep down into her mind, locking it up in a place where it couldn't be reached.

If she looked too long at falling snow, she would begin to remember. The lock that she had created in her heart shivered and cracked, and all of the repressed moments would slip out again. Crackling fireplaces built of solid marble. Sinking into armchairs made of burgundy leather of a time long gone. Standing at gold-topped windows of the Victorian era watching soft flakes drift by. Kisses that tasted of snow and wind.

But she could not help remembering. No one could; but the difference for her was that there was no end to it.

How could something so beautiful be so painful?

* * *

Jem was leaning against the large bay window in their bedroom, his nose pressed to the glass and staring at the snow as if he had never seen it before. And perhaps he hadn't. He had not truly seen snow since they were both so young, a lifetime ago.

When he turned to look at her, the world was in his eyes, a world of hurt and pain but a world of hope as well. There were still small flashes of silver in his eyes, bright against the dark, and there was so much love reflected in them that it was almost painful to watch.

It was then that she realized she didn't have to tear herself away, distance herself from the memories anymore. Tessa had done it to keep herself sane, so that she would keep looking into the future, because dwelling in memories would only cause more pain.

But she would heal. She would face those moments until they were faded enough for her to slip into from time to time, and she would make new ones in a new life that she would not have to lock up for a long time yet.

Because she would not have to lose someone else for a long time yet.

Tessa looped her arms around Jem and tilted her chin so that it grazed his shoulder. "Let's go outside," she said, squeezing. "You can't miss the first snow of the year. Pretty soon you will be sick of New York snowstorms, but you still can't miss it."

Jem turned away from the window, and looked at her for just a moment before smiling. "Of course."

* * *

They didn't bother with heavy clothes, and Tessa only threw on a gray scarf over the fleece pajama bottoms she slept in. She would pay for it later, but at that moment, she couldn't have cared less.

Their breath froze in the chilly air as soon as they stepped outside. New York in winter always smelled like ash and smoke, crisp and frozen. Everything was stopped by the snow, and Tessa could have sworn the world stopped turning for a moment.

It was lonely and distant, all of it. Even the people walking along the road and the cars swerving in and out of the traffic seemed far away as if in a dream.

It was only about them, them and the snow.

Jem stood in the midst of it all, face upturned to the gray winter sky as snowflakes fell onto his face. He stepped closer to her as if almost out of instinct. He looked like a ghost, all dark features and white snow. "I never thought I would live to feel snow again." he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, something that was for cloudy dreams and moonlit evenings.

When she kissed him, she was so close that she could see the powdery coating of snowflakes gathering on his eyelashes, which were as black as a raven's wing and would not be silver, every again, for a long time. He tasted like snow, pure and clean, and finally the lock that had been the most important thing in Tessa's heart and soul for decades unlocked itself and she remembered another time, another kiss, another snowfall in London with a different boy who was equally precious to her. Past and present and future all blended together dizzying whirl of colors and laughter, and for the first time, Tessa could not say that she minded.

* * *

The next morning, the sun was shining fiercely in an icy blue sky dotted with wispy clouds, and all the snow had melted away. Yesterday might have seemed a beautiful dream if not for Tessa's pale gray scarf, thrown haphazardly across the tiny mahogany hall table.

It was still stained dark gray at the back where snow melted on it, and that was all the evidence it took for Tessa to know that she did not have to lock it all away now.

Snow was still as beautiful as it was a century ago.

* * *

 **A/N: Did you guys like that? It wasn't pure Jessa fluff or anything, but I hope you still laughed and squealed :) I don't know why I added in the kiss… But it was fun to write anyway! Please drop me a review, even one line will make my day!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**

 **PS. Lady Midnight is coming out March 8! Which is a month away! The wonderful** **Princess Andromeda II** **first alerted me about this fact, is anyone else looking forward to it? Because OMG BLACKSTAIRS! AND POSSIBLY MORE JESSA! :) :) :) :)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Ghosts of the Past

**Ghosts of the Past**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Chapter 4 was basically a mini-shot that is an AU set in Victorian London. I didn't want to publish it as a new story because it was so tiny, and it ended up here. I might take it down or edit it again sometime in the future depending on how much time/motivation I have for that. I'm glad to hear that you think my one-shots are actually readable. Because sometimes I try to write 1k and end up with 3k. ;) Hehe, I still know you're XiuBaozi! (And I still remember how long it took you to read Clockwork Angel)**

 _ **manyscarletskies:**_ **Thank you! :) I hate getting out of bed too… I'm one of those people who need a lot of sleep. Like, a lot. And yes! I love snow! It never snows where I am, but the day I wrote this, it snowed. :) Coincidence? ;)**

 _ **kirstieworm1999:**_ **Yay! Glad you liked it! *does a happy dance* I'm always really happy when someone tells me one of my stories made them feel something. I think it's every writer's dream to write something and have someone read it in that way. I know I procrastinated and this chapter is really late, so sorry about that. I hope I did your suggestion justice!**

 _ **SilverJem5:**_ **I haven't seen you in a while! Hello again, and thank you so much for reviewing all my chapters! :) *gobbles up your cookie* Your reviews are always so awesome, they totally make my day. Yes, I totally agree, if Jessa isn't in Lady Midnight I will die a slow, horrible death drowning in the water with no ship. :/ Let's just say this: Jessa must be in Lady Midnight.**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Aww… Thank you! Your reviews helped me out when I was struggling with writer's block the most! I appreciate that, and did you know that your first review made me laugh so much? "This is a review." :) Best way to start a review: call it a review because it is!**

* * *

 **A/N: Hi again! Remember me? No? Yeah, I know. I've been absent. Long answer short? Blame school. And presentations. I hate presentations, I never want to do one, like ever again, after doing three in one week. So… New chapter!**

 **This is for** **kirstieworm1999** **, who gave me the prompt for this. Enjoy, I hope this is as good as you expected your prompt to be!**

 **Disclaimer: Not Cassandra Clare. Otherwise I wouldn't have made Malec break up. (Because I re-read the CoLS epilogue and it killed me… Save me, I'm dying!)**

* * *

To any casual observer, they may have seemed normal. The boy wearing jeans and a dark windbreaker; the girl with stormy gray eyes. They were walking hand in hand down a street decorated with autumn foliage in colors of flaming red and balmy yellow.

A more careful observer might have found it odd that the street they were walking down seemingly led to a bricked-up dead end that was only occupied by dust and graffiti. They might have noticed the scars on the boy's cheeks, or the way that blue light encircled the hands of the girl.

But the only observers on that particular street on that particular day were the birds wheeling high above.

No one saw them disappear _into_ the wall.

Tessa swiped away the glamour on the Institute with a series of quick blinks. She had mastered the technique sometime in the seventies, when it was not wise and no longer safe for a lone warlock to be tricked by illusions.

The London Institute towered into view, solid and foreboding as always. The dark stone of its walls, the carefully wrought iron of the gate, all looked the same as it had done when she was young, though perhaps a little bit more world-worn. Just as she was.

Jem squeezed her hand, once, lightly. Tessa smiled and hooked her pinky around his. He turned to look at her. "You haven't forgotten." he said, his eyes flashing dark and silver.

"I haven't," whispered Tessa. "I never will."

* * *

The archway topping the iron curlicues of the gate loomed over them as they entered. _Pulvis et umbra sumus._ We are dust and shadows. Just as it had for the last hundred years.

She watched them, silent and unseen, from the darkness of the Institute halls. They had changed so much over the past century, but then, so had she. She hadn't recognized them when they entered. They looked so ordinary, like the mundanes who had sometimes wandered in by accident.

No gear, no runes. No weapons. The Shadowhunter she had always wished to be.

They were no longer the same boy and girl from a past long ago.

But then, neither was she.

* * *

Tessa glanced around the courtyard quickly as they crossed into the Institute. She could have sworn there was a shadow at the corner of her eye.

But there was nothing. Of course not.

* * *

She didn't want them to see her. They looked so young, although she knew they weren't, and so in love, although she knew she would never know.

She didn't want them to look at her and see her for what she was—the traitor, the ghost, the spirit still bound to the earth.

She didn't have a place in their love, in the way they looked at the other as if they were the only star in the sky.

She didn't have a place in any sort of love.

* * *

A breeze wafted across the pale gray sky, ruffling Jem's hair and twisting Tessa's scarf into the air. It pushed its way past her ear, and with it came the faintest murmur.

 _Tessa._

It was the smallest whisper, something that came with the wind and was gone with the wind, something that was so soft that she wasn't sure whether it was her imagination or not; whether it was the years of memory of this place making her hallucinate.

* * *

 _Tessa. James._

She didn't think they would hear. They wouldn't hear unless they wanted to. And why would they expect it, from the girl who had died as a traitor a century before?

But they did. She should have known better.

* * *

Tessa stared as the air behind her rippled slightly, as if the world had shifted. The misty outline of a girl stood where a red-gold maple had been a moment before.

White-gold hair. Large, upturned eyes. Heart-shaped face. And a pale, lace-edged gown stained scarlet with blood, the only real color on her transparent figure.

"Jessamine," she breathed.

"You came back," Tessa said.

Jessamine smiled, a small, knowing, smile; her eyes crinkling at the corners and her teeth flashing in a way that she would have found very unladylike a century ago. "I haven't left since."

"That's impossible," Jem said. "You are Nephilim. When you die, you move on. You only linger if something important that ties you to this world."

Jessamine lifted her chin and a sudden wind blew her hair back from her face. For a second, Tessa could see the traces of that fierce girl she had known. "I have never been one of you. I have always shunned and despised what I was, even as the Nephilim made who I am now. And in death I now repay that debt."

"You have been here all this time?" Tessa wondered softly. "You have not done the anything to deserve this."

"I have done many things to deserve this." Jessamine's face changed bitterly. "I do not regret what I did. No one can say I did not do it out of love. But I will pay the debt that I have made for myself, if not in life, then in death." Her face softened as the wind swirled around her. "I keep this blood spilled on me to remind me of that promise I took."

Her silhouette flickered, fading in and out. "And now this debt is paid." The scarlet blood on her dress flaked off and faded into the wind. And she began to disappear.

"Jessie," Jem said quietly. "You have always been one of the Nephilim. Do not go thinking that you weren't."

There was the faintest silvery shape in the air, the last thing left of Jessamine, before she dissolved entirely.

Tessa could have sworn that the wind whispered goodbye.

"Ave atque vale, Jessamine Lovelace." she murmured, her voice carried far, far, away with the wind, to somewhere where Jessamine was maybe finally at rest.

As she raised a hand, blue sparks trailed into the air, a final farewell for the girl who had lost so much and given far more.

* * *

 **A/N: I realized about halfway through the story that it wasn't really about Jem/Tessa, it was more about Jessamine, but I still wanted to post this here because I think it's an important part of their relationship to visit the London Institute and see a ghost from their past (a literal ghost this time ;), to receive what closure the meeting contained (because the Institute was a place of too many memories). I might expand this later, let me know what you want in reviews! :)**

 **Oh, and I'd really love some feedback on whether I'm writing Jessie OOC, because right now, she feels a bit like a female version of Will to me. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but that's not Jessamine either. Arghhhh... I feel like I'm mutilating all these characters. I'm sorry if I did, feedback is greatly appreciated, as always!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


	7. Chapter 7 - Any Other Way

**Any Other Way**

* * *

 **Responses to Reviews:**

 _ **SilverJem5:**_ **Aww, thank you for all the love! :) Here's some more Jessie stuff, although I did get kind of sidetracked. I've finished Lady Midnight, and I loved the Jessa bits!**

 _ **Bubblegum234:**_ **I'm so sorry about the lateness of this, but I finally sucked up my procrastination and wrote something. :) I hope you like it, please feel free to message me if you feel like something should be changed.**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Yay, glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reviewing.**

 _ **Guest:**_ **Yes, I couldn't bear to give Jessie a sad ending after what she'd been through. :)**

 _ **alex-hp7:**_ ***sends you hearts* I don't know how many more times I can say this to all of you without being so repetitive, but** _ **thank you,**_ **especially for all of your PMs and encouragement and booktalks. :)**

 _ **manyscarletskies:**_ **Haha, I was a little nervous about Jessamine's POV, since this was supposed to be Jessa, but I'm happy you liked it. :D I never liked Jessie too much, either, but she's fun to write! Hopefully my PM confirmed what you were confused about.**

* * *

 **A/N: Can't even make any excuses about the lateness of this one. I'm sorry, everyone, I swear I'm not giving up on this fic, it's just taking a little time. To make up for it, here's 2.5k-ish words of Jessa fluff (ft. Church and Jessamine). I'm posting this really quick before I leave on a trip, so excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. I'll edit it properly once I get home. As always, enjoy!**

 **Prompt requested by:** **Bubblegum234**

" **Will had promised that 'baby Jessie' and her family would be kept just the way she had left them." (This is set chronologically after the last chapter, but it doesn't really matter, as none of the events are particularly referenced.)**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't own any of the TID characters.**

* * *

Tessa sorted through the pile of items idly. There was nothing particularly interesting in it; or particularly important, for that matter. All of the interesting and important items were in her slightly bigger New York flat, where she lived most of the time when she wasn't traveling—and now, where Jem lived as well, she reminded herself with a thrill.

It was such a cliche thing to forget, the kind of thing only swoony heroines from cheap romance novels would think, but it was so wildly different from what had become normal for Tessa that she couldn't believe it sometimes. After decades of being alone, of stumbling out of bed to a cold kitchen, of forcing herself to be okay, of breaking down—not crying, just breaking down—when nobody could see her—it was thrilling. That was the best description she could find for the lovely warmth in her stomach, and the way her soul seemed to laugh, whenever she saw Jem, as part of her life, one that she could love freely.

A small smile crept onto her face and she let it. For the longest time, smiling had felt forbidden to Tessa, as much as emotion had been forbidden to Jem. It had felt as if she were betraying Will by letting herself be happy; but happiness could be retaught, she knew that. And slowly, she was teaching herself, to be really, truly happy, without the restraint she usually put onto her joy.

Tessa fished into the pile again and held up an antique-looking envelope, not yellowed with age but turned into a rather unattractive shade of grayish brown, and looked critically at it. She could feel the corners of a sheet of stiff paper through its thin cover. Wondering vaguely if it was something important she had missed (and rather hoping it was), she peeled it open, carefully, to not disturb the dust bunnies long since settled onto it; Angel knew she had enough sneezing fits with Church around.

Peeking inside, she realized it was only a bill.

An apartment rental bill, to be exact, from a time where apartment rental bills were apparently a new concept; it was poorly formatted, smudged, and too thick to be carried around easily.

 _Oh, by the Angel._ Tessa rolled her eyes at herself, acting so nostalgic and starved for remembrances; tricking herself into think that dusty old envelopes like that were something worth keeping.

"By the Angel," came an amused, lilting voice to her left, imitating her previous thought. A warmth presence suddenly brushed past her, sweeping back a strand of brown hair that had come loose from its hurried ponytail, without as much as a sound to indicate that it was there. Jem had still retained his Shadowhunter grace, and Tessa had never quite gotten the hang of Shadowhunter hearing; these situations, as a result, tended to happen often.

"Was that a receipt?" Jem asked, his head tilted slightly. "That does not look like the content you want to keep for millennia."

Tessa laughed, pressing further into him. "It was a bill, it looks disgusting, it's going to go."

Jem looked vaguely alarmed. "That bill was ancient. Don't you ever houseclean?" The mock solemnity of the statement was ruined by the slight upturning of his lips that accompanied it at the end.

Tessa glared and crumpled the bill up, lobbing it at him. It missed, of course, bouncing somewhere behind them. Not that she cared too much. "Why don't you be useful and help me get this stuff sorted instead of lecturing me about housecleaning? There's too many antiques in the attic anyway."

"I am offended," Jem declared. "You told me we were going on vacation to Venice. We are not on vacation in Venice. We are on an antique-cleaning trip to your tiny Venetian flat that should, by all logic, not even have an attic."

"Well, a certain somebody told me I needed to start _housecleaning_ ," Tessa teased back, making sure to put emphasis on the word. "And don't question magical pockets in space-time dimension. It makes your head hurt."

"A large amount of certain somebodies," he pointed out, pointedly ignoring her topic-changing statement about space-time dimensions. "Clary, Alec and Jace all agree with me."

She sniffed in an offended manner. "Clary is descended from Charlotte and Alec is a hypocrite who needs to look at the state of his boyfriend's closet before he starts commenting on other people's houses."

"And Jace?"

"Is allergic to all of my living areas, for a vague reason I have never found out, and never intend to."

"Because they're a mess." Jem didn't often roll his eyes, but he did now. The modern gesture was a little strange to see on him, although Tessa did think it looked endearing.

"Touche, Mr. Carstairs." She turned around and pulled him in by the strings of his hoodie. "Now shut up and kiss me. I hate it when you're right."

Jem smiled, a teasing grin just a knife's edge away from wicked. He kissed her once, softly, then pulled away as a plaintive meow sounded from behind them.

Tessa hated that cat sometimes. She tried to convey it in her glare at the door, but either unaware or conveniently disregarding her feelings, a furry gray head poked into the attic.

Apparently, Jem didn't share the same opinion, as he let Church burrow his way into his lap and tolerantly allowed the cat to shed long, gray strands of hair all over the new sweater he had bought just yesterday.

"Hey, shoo," Tessa said, snapping her fingers in a small _go-away_ motion and releasing a small pulse of magic by accident. Not enough to hurt, but hopefully enough to discourage, possibly forever. "Only I'm allowed to sit in his lap."

She had evidently got her point across, as Church, making a dramatically ominous growling rumble, jumped off Jem with some reluctance, sulking into the shadows of the attic.

Tessa smirked. "Score one for me."

"Jealous much?"

"Never." She winked, blowing him a kiss. Truth be, she was rather fond of the cat, even despite his tendency to bite, not to mention whine constantly before closed doors at all hours until someone let him in. He did make Jem happy, and could be rather cute—of course, that was before he got into disaster, but still.

As if aware of her thoughts, Church sauntered back out into the light, deliberately smug, or so it seemed. Walking across the space-time defying attic, he wedged himself, for reasons best known to no one, into a tiny space between two boxes.

This in itself was an impressive feat, as the cat weighed well over five and a half kilograms and had quite a bit of extra fat on his body; made up of scraps from Isabelle's supposedly horrendous cooking as well as Jem's lenient doting.

Tessa took one of Jem's hands in both of her own, turning it over and rubbing warmth back into his fingers as they both watched Church purring in his tiny shelter. Although he was perfectly healthy, Jem's hands were somehow always cold, no matter what time of the year. She ran her fingers absentmindedly over the callouses from years of handling weapons and playing violin; it was a sort of habit between them, something that they would do to anchor themselves to the _here and now_ , if one of them drifted off too far away.

Only a few moments later, the bubble that they had been creating for themselves, complete with Church's purr, was shattered by a yowling shriek which would probably have given Tessa a headache under any other circumstances.

This was followed by a few boxes, and other odds and ends, crashing to the floor, narrowly missing the still-screaming cat now racing across the floor. He had probably shifted too much and caused an avalanche of old boxes. Jem cursed under his breath, both of them staring in askance at the mess on the floor, Tessa's sorting forgotten.

"I'm banning that nuisance cat from the attic," Tessa declared, flapping her hands to hurriedly usher him out.

Jem, with a laugh and a rueful frown, began to right the bundles that had tumbled down; there was a box full of albums, some paperback novels that had been long since forgotten, a delicate, plate-like piece of green china that had somehow survived the fall (a pity, Tessa mused, as that particular shade of green was rather ugly, if not vomit-inducing) and an odd, lopsided package.

Out of pure curiosity, she pulled the package closer to look at it properly. The color was faded, and not in a pretty, sun-worn way, either; more in the way of something that had been neglected for a long time, and it was wrapped with vinyl—a shocking contrast between centuries—but it was unmistakably something she had seen before, and had not thought she would see ever again.

Jessamine's dollhouse.

Jem slowly swept his eyes over it, taking in the broken boards on one side, the tiny interior, lovingly decorated and wallpapered, complete with three miniature dolls.

"This was in the Institute," he realized. "Jessie's dollhouse."

Tessa nodded. "She showed it to me once. That was before… before she started working with Mortmain."

"Funny how it ended up here, hm?"

She pursed her lips and appraised the dollhouse. "Will told me, once, that he would keep her dolls safe. I never thought much of it, really." She distractedly tapped a finger on the palm of her other hand. "He said that she was a good person, in the end."

Jem let out a sigh, a small, soft, exhale and sank down next to her. "Back then, I never understood how you could give up Shadowhunting. I thought she was mad, for wanting it. For giving up everything, to marry a mundane man who never loved her. But now," he paused, looking at her. "it doesn't seem so impossible."

"It's a violent life, the one that Nephilim lead," Tessa agreed. "She wanted no part of it."

"Burn bright, die young." Jem laughed, if a little too sharply. "My father's words."

Tessa looked up in surprise at what those words seemed to imply. "You are still a Shadowhunter, James."

"But you are not," he countered. "You have angel blood, but the Clave does not see it. They only see a warlock, and I will not stand for that." There was a bitterness in the way he spoke.

She stared for a few seconds before she could respond. "What are you saying?" Tessa clamped down on the hope, and the panic that was growing inside her, and forced herself to be calm.

Jem sighed again, but not sadly. It felt as if there was a small smile concealed in it, if Tessa could look closely enough. "I am not quite a normal Shadowhunter, am I? I do not think I know how to fit myself to that mold again." He ran a hand through his hair, scraping some of the too-long strands out of his face. "And I think I realize what Jessie was thinking. Why she clung on her past." Then he looked at her, an infinite world that he had seen live and die in his eyes. "I would give up being a Shadowhunter for you."

She had both hoped and feared he would say this. But all that she could say in response was, "One can give up many things for love, but should not give up oneself."

Jem tiled his head, a smile on his face. "Will used to say that, too. He said it was from his father."

"Perhaps. But it is true."

"I am not giving up myself for love," he said levelly. "You are part of my being, as much as Shadowhunting is. I don't know who I would be without you, if I would be changed, or better, but I do know that I would never have it any other way." An intake of breath. "You, me. And Will."

"At last, the wheel comes the full circle." Tessa smiled, through sudden tears that threatened to spill.

" _Ni shi wo de xin._ Tessa." _You are my heart, Tessa._

"And I would never have it any other way," Tessa echoed. She leaned into Jem, and her eye was caught by the lovely, fragile dollhouse, now broken. She reached out to stroke a finger across its wooden boards, skin catching on the roughness of the cracked boards.

"We'll keep your dolls safe, Jessie."

* * *

Far away, not in a particular space or time, but everywhere at once, a girl's silvery laugh was carried away with the wind.

"Thank you," she whispered in gratitude.

* * *

 **A/N: The Chinese translation is courtesy of Google Translate and my personal limited vocabulary, please excuse any errors. Final thoughts on this one? I tried to stretch it into one long scene of sorts, instead of using my usual snap-shotty style, and I'm not quite sure how that worked out. Feedback is greatly appreciated!**

 **I feel like I don't say this often enough, so I'll say it now. A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or followed this story; I know it's still far from popular, or amazingly good, but anyone who has taken the time to read is amazing and I love you all so much. :)**

 **One last thing, send me your Tumblr accounts if you want me to take a look, I have a shiny new blog moonlightandashes that needs more Tumblrs to follow.**

 **Happy summer! :D**

 **Moonlight and Ashes**


End file.
